


Some Assembly Required

by Sticklers



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Found Family, M/M, They/Them Pronouns for Zer0 (Borderlands), They/Them pronouns for Lorelei, Vague mentions of sex, minor background ships that don't really matter or mentioned further, tags will update as I go, well more like enemies to begrudging acquaintances to reluctant friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sticklers/pseuds/Sticklers
Summary: Tim gets the chance to leave the casino and start fresh on Promethea under Atlas. That doesn't mean he's got to like it. Especially when the CEO is such a tacky bitch.
Relationships: Digi-Jack(s) & Timothy Lawrence, Timothy Lawrence & Mad Moxxi, Timothy Lawrence/Rhys, mentions of past timoxxi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim says his goodbyes to the casino. Next stop, Promethea.

The first thing Timothy did once out of the casino was ask Moxxi to dinner.

She accepted — something that pleasantly surprised him, both from the fact that he actually had the courage to ask and that she was willing to go at all — and they had a nice night. There was wine, a bit of clumsy and not so clumsy flirting, some kisses, and really passionate I’m-glad-we’re-not-dead-sex.

In the end it didn’t work out for them, which he always figured would be the case. She was eccentric and lively and beautiful. He was just Tim.

Still, they were close, always finding comfort in one another with a half empty bottle of wine and talking about nothing and everything.

Staying in the casino and helping Moxxi with renovations was rewarding but also seemed to make Tim depressed. Just more time spent in his cell even if the locks were gone.

The bustling of construction workers helped some since there were new faces to see. It made the place seem more awake and in turn set off a sense of longing in Tim. Having the same four walls with a fresh coat of paint wouldn’t stop him from remembering the fact he had been prisoner here for seven odd years now. His skin itched every time he thought of leaving in an awful mix of anxiety and excitement.

“What’s on your mind, sugar?” Moxxi asked from behind the counter of her bar. The large _Foxxxi’s_ had been replaced with her own ages ago; it was the first thing done in the renovations.

“Nothin’,” Tim lied and leaned against the counter to tuck his head in between his arms. 

Moxxi _tsk’d_ and looked down at the glass she was wiping with a shake of her head. “You’re an alright actor, but a terrible liar.”

“Thanks,” Tim said sarcastically. He tapped his fingers against the counter before giving a heavy sigh. Moxxi set the glass down and patiently waited for his thoughts to finish. “Just...I don’t know what to do with my life.”

Moxxi said nothing but did tilt her head to signal for him to continue. He took a breath.

“I haven’t been ‘me’ in so long. Even when I was running around the casino scared for my friggin’ life I was still being that a-hole. Probably thanks to the DNA, but, well, also not? I’m just used to being Jack. I was so obsessed with leaving that I kinda forgot it was actually a real choice and not some fantasy to keep me going. And I wanna leave but..." He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze towards his nub as if to emphasize his next point. Some nights it was hard to process that he was missing a limb. “...but I guess leaving would make it all real.”

“Make what real?” Moxxi asked. From the tone of her voice Tim knew she already had an idea of what he was going to say but was too polite to point it out. He loved and hated that about her so much.

“Jack being dead,” he confessed. A sour taste filled his mouth and he smacked his lips to dissipate it somewhat. “He was such a bastard, obviously. Lost an eye and a hand ‘cause of him. I think...I think in some messed up way I miss him? Either that or it’s just too hard to wrap my brain around the fact he’s gone. The guy was larger than life. That and it hasn’t really hit me that I’ve been locked away from society so I think going outside would make my head explode on impact.”

Wincing at the memories of having a bomb in his face that would do just that, he backtracked and added: “Metaphorically, of course.”

“Of course,” Moxxi echoed and began to mix up a brightly colored drink.

“I...Mox, you know I love helping you and stuff…” Tim struggled with what he wanted to say. Anxiety flared up at the idea of hurting her in any way — she was one of his closest and only friends in this shitty existence.

“Being caged up in this casino isn’t any better with my name than with Jack’s. I get’cha, hun,” she said easily. Tim let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“Still, even if I leave, my face isn’t the most welcomed one in the galaxy.” Tim suddenly barked a laugh, sounding a little too much like his former boss for comfort. “Imagine that: surviving this shithole for seven freakin’ years with that ugly mug looming all over the place only to die the second I step out ‘cause I have the same damn one.” 

A glass was slid in front of him filled with bright orange liquid and plenty of ice. Tim honestly had no idea what it even was, but the pink umbrella was inviting enough. 

He deflated instantly and reached for the drink, taking a tentative sip. It was so sugary and almost sickeningly sweet. He just knew he could knock back a handful, no sweat. Moxxi knew him so well.

“I know somewhere you can stay for a bit while you figure out what you want. The guy is an ally to the Raiders and is willing to do pretty much anything to stay on their good side after the war,” Moxxi said as she poured two more drinks for both herself and Tim.

Tim frowned uncomfortably and downed the rest of his drink. He vaguely knew about what had happened to the rest of the galaxy thanks to Moxxi and the Vault Hunters informing him, but it was still mind boggling to know he was stuck in a space station for seven years while some evil twins tried to take over the universe and become gods. Not to mention...

“Um, no offense Mox, it’s a nice offer, but I’m not exactly a Crimson Raider. They won’t even let me on the ship.” Tim grimaced and reached for the other drink to quickly gulp down. He could still remember that kid who was apparently in charge of Sanctuary now — Alma? Ava? — telling him he wasn’t allowed onboard because the citizens would either die of a heart attack or try to kill him on sight.

Which was expected but it still hurt like hell.

“Let me worry about that, sugar. You just need to cover that handsome face of yours and keep those pretty little lips sealed.” Moxxi took a delicate sip of her drink and Tim felt his face heating up at her stare. The mask hid how flushed his cheeks were, which he was thankful for. 

“I, um, you don’t have to do this, Mox. We’re already square. Y’know--” He raised his arm and waved the nub to prove his next point. “--hand for, uh, well, casino.”

Moxxi pursed her lips to hide her amusement. “Think of this as a thank you.”

“Fooorrr saving the casino? Kinda already owed you one before that with the debt stuff, so…?”

“As a thank you for that wonderful night we had _after_ you saved everyone’s lives.” Tim’s face felt like it had gotten so hot the bomb implanted in his skin would reactivate. “Seems those little movies you starred in really gave you an edge in the bedroom. That thing you did with your thumb--”

“Ok! Ok! I’ll t-take up your offer!” Tim squeaked and brought his glass up to press against his cheek in an attempt to cool down. Moxxi’s laugh only made him sink further into his seat with an embarrassed whine. “Moxxxxiiii…”

“I’ll go ahead and contact him to let him know we’ll be stopping by. Go rest up, sugar. You look exhausted.”

Tim rubbed his face and muttered something along the lines of ‘evil sexy clowns’ before standing up from his stool. “I can help wash up and close down the bar.”

Moxxi regarded Tim for a moment, lips still quirked up into a half-smile, and nodded. “Alright. And if you ever do change your mind and decide to stay, the bartending position is always open.”

“Haha,” Tim laughed flatly and gathered up their empty glasses. “I’m sure your patrons would be lining up to get a drink from dear ol’ Jack.”

“Get you in some tight shirts and even tighter jeans and I’m sure they’ll be looking at more than just your face, sugar,” Moxxi said with a playful wink.

At Tim’s embarrassed groan, she laughed and sauntered off in the direction of her office to make the call, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts.

There was still some lingering anxiety over leaving the casino. Checking over his shoulder at any noise was the norm for him -- all this relative peace during the renovation was making him nauseous. It didn’t sound healthy, but the biggest thing he was looking forward to when leaving into a different environment was going to be that familiar spike of fear. Fear was good; it’s kept him alive ever since he signed his life away to that stupid body double program.

He would just have to avoid telling Moxxi or she’ll hunker him down in his room and make him drunk watch shitty soap operas until he spilled all his feelings. Wouldn’t be the first time.

After wiping down the bar and dimming the lights, Tim locked up and made his way towards the VIP condos in the residential section of the casino. It was certainly an upgrade from _Casa de Timothy._ Moxxi and the rest of his friends from the Vice District also set up here once Pretty Boy was out of the picture. It was probably the safest place in the casino, especially with all of the murderous former-customers-turned-gang-members-slash-bounty-hunters-slash-looters were no longer so quick to be trigger happy once the Vault Hunters cleared them out.

He opened up his front door and stared into his room.

He closed it.

Pulling his jacket tighter around him, he trudged down to the main floor and made his way back to the Spendopticon (new name pending). Without his winning hand he had no choice but to go beneath the waterfall. Getting wet was a nuisance but grounding, in a way.

He peeled off his jacket, tousled his hair, and crawled into the makeshift cot that had been his bed for the past year. His eyes travelled to his familiar writing on the wall and he mouthed the words silently to himself.

_You are not Jack._

_You are more than your face._

_It’s not your fault._

_You will not die here._

Closing his eyes, for the first time in a long time, Timothy genuinely believed that mantra.

* * *

Leaving _Casa de Timothy_ was a lot harder than it should have been.

Tim wasn’t sure how long he stood there just soaking it all in. His maps, his reminders, his manuscripts, even his shitty little television that only played Handsome Jack propaganda -- all of it had been his comfort for so long. It felt like he was leaving a piece of him behind with this place.

“Timothy?” Moxxi’s voice crackled through the speakers of his ECHO. He patted it absentmindedly and walked to one of his tables to carefully pick up his memoir. _The Man Behind the Mask_ title made his face itchy. “It’s almost time to leave, sugar. I’ll brief you on where you’re headed once we’re on the ship.”

“Yeah, I’m just packing,” Tim replied, his voice not as strong as he would have liked. Clearing his throat, he digistructed the manuscript into his clip before doing the same for the second. 

There wasn’t much else to take aside from scraps of paper and pens he used for doodling. He rocked himself on his heels as he stared them down before snatching them up as well. Paper and pens weren’t hard to come by but it was the sentimental value of it all.

“Make sure you’re covered up.”

“Yeah, okay. See ya soon, Mox.”

Something could to be said about the fact he hasn’t changed his outfit since the coup. Realistically, he knew he needed something different, especially if he was going to have this face for the rest of his life. Walking around with an eye wateringly yellow hoodie with the words Hyperion stamped across the chest wasn’t exactly subtle.

He tugged at the hem of the hoodie and frowned deeply, his anxiety picking up at the idea of changing into something else. 

Leaving was one thing, but changing what little comforts he had on his person was another. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, this hoodie was a bit of a security blanket for him.

Tim chewed on his bottom lip and debated with himself for a solid minute before snatching his jacket up to zip on all the way to hide the logo. He pulled over his hoodie quickly after and then stalked out of his home with a heavy weight in his gut.

Obviously that wouldn’t be enough to disguise him, he wasn’t that stupid. On the way to meet up with Moxxi, he lifted a large pair of gaudy shades and an equally gaudy yellow scarf. He folded it in a way to hide the Hyperion logo and tied it over his lower face, feeling a little ridiculous when he passed by a mirror.

He didn’t _look_ like himself, but he also didn’t look like he was trying to blend in.

Tim gritted his teeth and stomped away. 

When Moxxi caught sight of him, she lifted a delicate brow and shook her head with a very visible sigh. The entertainers from the Vice District were also there to give their goodbyes and were openly displaying various expressions of amusement.

“Ah, Timothy,” Ember spoke first. Tim couldn’t help but smile when he heard his name come from her, her accent pronouncing it as an endearing ‘Tim-o-ty’. “While I am sure Moxxi appreciates the passion within you to commit to your aesthetic, this journey is one for self reflection and discovery, _non_?”

“The clothing department here isn’t exactly diverse,” Tim said in defense.

“Well I think you’re lookin’ good, Tim,” Trent piped up encouragely with a saucy wink. Tim squirmed and self consciously began to readjust his shades. 

“Yeah?” he asked with a hopeful tone. 

“Okay, mind the flirting you two,” Moxxi cut in and reached over to slip her arm around Tim’s waist. She ignored his mutter of ‘ _I was_ not _flirting_ ’ and motioned for everyone to come over. “Time for a good ol’ fashioned orgy.”

“You mean ‘group hug’, right?” Tim asked through a wheeze as his friends gathered around to swallow him in their arms.

“Same thing,” Moxxi replied.

“It isn’t,” the rest of the group automatically said back.

Once the hug was over, Tim felt hot tears well up in his eyes. It was suddenly hitting him that he was genuinely leaving this casino. These people — his friends — had seen him at his worst and helped him through it all. Leaving his little hideyhole had been hard but this felt like cutting off a limb all over again.

He cleared his throat and shuffled around. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call you guys when I land.”

“You better stay in touch, hot stuff,” Trent said with a waggle of his finger. Tim nodded mutely, not trusting his voice to be steady.

Ember pulled Tim in for another hug and he gripped her back tightly. “You will do great things, _chérie_. I can see the fire that burns brightly within you waiting to burst free.”

Tim gave a watery laugh and pressed a faux kiss to the dancer’s cheek. “Whatever you say,” he sniffled.

DTF Loader whirred to catch their attention and lifted a mechanical hand to Tim. Tim reached under his shades to wipe his tears while Ember patted his shoulder consolingly.

“The Mayor of Trashlantis sends a gift for you,” the loader said. They opened their hand to reveal a small box covered in tape and questionable stains. “He would have personally arrived to send you off but he has had enough ‘capitalistic adventures’.

Tim grimaced under his scarf and carefully picked up the box. It didn’t weigh much and the smell was making him question whether or not he wanted to actually accept this. “Oh, uh, tell him I said thanks. I guess.” A sudden thought popped into his head. “Hey, no offense DL, but why did the Mayor give this to you and not Moxxi?”

“Don’t you know, Tim? DL practically lives there since they’re always visiting their boyfriend,” Shelly chimed in with a snicker and leaned heavily against the bot. The rest of the group let out various wolf whistles and obnoxious cooing, causing the bot to twitch.

“Shut up,” they said.

“Aw, c’mon, you and that constructor are kinda cute together,” she soothed.

“Clapstructor and I are simply friends who occasionally integrate from time to time. We will see how things go. For now it is in the benefits category.”

“That’s actually kinda cute,” Tim said as he pocketed the box after wiping his hand over his jeans. “I’m glad you found someone in his heap, DL. Eeeeven if they’re welded to garbage. But, um, seriously. Super happy for you, kid— er, buddy.”

“If I had the capacity, I would blush. Thank you, Timothy,” DL said as sincerely as they could with their limited voice module.

“Well, if you guys ever get serious and wanna tie the cable, I am ordained,” Tim joked. His smile dipped a bit the more he thought about it. “For real, I’m ordained. Did a lot of Jack weddings back in the day and my books are wide open. Like, wiiiide open. Embarrassingly so.”

“The point of sending you off this station is to get away from all that Jack nonsense, sugar,” Moxxi reminded with a fond shake of her head.

“I’m stuck with the face, might as well use it,” Tim groused.

“In that case, I’m sure Harder than Hard Productions would love to hear from y—“

“Hey, weren’t we supposed to get going? I feel like we were supposed to get going. Onboard Sanctuary, right? We should — we should start heading there. That sounds like a great plan.” 

There were a few more hugs and a lot more tears before the two finally headed towards Sanctuary. Whatever anxiety Tim had over leaving was absolutely nothing in comparison to boarding the home of the Crimson Raiders.

Citizens eyed him curiously because of his approximation to Moxxi. He silently cursed Jack’s broad shoulders as tried to hunch in on himself to appear smaller. No one would know it was him — as far as he was aware, none of the citizens even knew he _existed_ — but that didn’t stop the prickle of paranoia that hit him everytime one of them glanced his way.

Uproarious laughter caught their attention and Tim warily tilted his head in the direction of Moxxi’s bar when they passed beside it. The Vault Hunters who rescued him from the casino were huddled by the counter with various drinks surrounding them and were pointedly looking directly at _him_.

The older one that Tim vaguely remembered had some sort of distinct Pandoran accent was practically in tears at the sight of them. He was clutching his stomach and _pointing_. Tim felt his face flush in anger and embarrassment, his hands balling into shaking fists. 

Yeah, the disguise wasn’t good but that was just rude.

Tim opened his mouth, a scathing Jack threat on the tip of his tongue, but a dainty hand over his bicep caught him before it could leave.

“Pretty lips sealed, remember? And don’t worry, sugar. I’ll add it to his tab,” Moxxi purred softly, her voice pitching down to something soothing. Tim nodded stiffly and stuffed his hands (well, hand) into his pockets.

She glared over at the group, immediately silencing them, and tugged Tim along towards her living quarters. One of the hunters shouted a ‘ _sorry_!’ but Tim honestly didn’t care enough to try and figure out which of them it was.

Sitting on Moxxi’s bed, Tim quickly pulled off his disguise and rubbed at his cheeks. The mask was still on so the redness wasn’t visible, but he could feel the heat through the synthetic skin.

“Well, it’s not like you were hiding much from people who know who you are,” Moxxi said with a playful shrug and sat primly beside him. At his glower, she smiled coyly and reached over to pull him in to lean against her shoulder. He allowed her to do so with a grumble, his tense shoulders drooping at the feeling of her fingers gently massaging his scalp.

“Luckily Ava was on Athenas for some personal matters. I’m not sure how I would have spun this to her if she caught sight of you,” she continued.

“Whatever,” Tim sighed dramatically. He reluctantly detached himself from Moxxi’s side and laid back onto the mattress to stare at the ceiling. 

Moxxi gazed down at him in amusement and traced a finger along his jaw, tilting it in her direction. Three months ago, Tim would have been a sputtering, melted mess at such an innocuous touch. He still felt his heart rate pick up, he was only human, but the smile he sent her was more fond than anxiously aroused.

“Where are we headed anyway?” he asked.

Blindly trusting Moxxi shouldn’t be a habit of his — she tried to kill him the first time, after all. Yet here he was nearly 12 years later doing the exact same as he did when they first met. 

Which was fine. They’ve grown close in these past few months to the point where he could consider her family, and, if he was adventurous enough, his best friend. He knew he would put his life on the line for her in a heartbeat, given the chance. Her sending him off towards the unknown wasn't as worrying as one might think.

“Promethea,” Moxxi answered. Tim gave a look of disgust.

“Promethea? Be-thankful-you’re-on-Pandora-and-not-Promethea Promethea?” Tim asked incredulously.

“A lot’s changed in seven years, sugar.”

Tim didn’t look convinced. “I’ve been to Promethea before. I’d rather stay on the casino for the rest of my life and take vacations zero gravity-ing it up on Elpis than go there.”

Moxxi sent him an unimpressed look. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Tim replied automatically. It didn’t even register that he agreed so quickly until he saw the slowly widening grin on Moxxi’s face.

“Cute as a button,” Moxxi teased and gently pinched his nose. Tim groaned loudly and swatted her hand away.

“Moxxxxiii,” he whined and threw his arms over his face. The friendly flirty banter between them could be so fun, but when it went straight to ‘let’s tease Tim to see what shade of red he’ll turn under his mask this time’ it was beyond embarrassing.

“Alright, alright. Now, back to where you’re staying.” She reached for his elbow and gave a slight tug so that just enough of his eyes could peek through to see her. “Like I said before, Promethea has changed. A _lot_ has changed. For example, Atlas is back--”

“ _What_?”

“--which is majorly located on Promethea. The Crimson Raider ally I mentioned is the CEO, Rhys Strongfork.” Tim snorted at the ridiculousness of the name and Moxxi didn’t have it in her to even try to scold him. “I know, I know. But he’s a sweetheart. A little goofy, plenty of eccentric, and loyal. I’ve already told him about your...situation and he is more than willing to let you stay in spite of that, provided you pull your weight.”

Tim slowly brought his arms down to his chest and stared at Moxxi with an inscrutable expression. “What kind of ‘weight’?”

“Deal with a few ratch infestations here and there, test prototypes. Pretty vanilla all things considered.”

A beat passed between the two before Moxxi pulled a concerned frown. “I’m not asking you to jump for joy here, hun, but a response of some kind would be nice,” she said.

“Sorry, I’m just not really feeling the CEO thing,” Tim said honestly. At Moxxi’s eyebrow raise, he sighed and gave a small shrug. “Met my fair share of megalomaniac corporate bastards by going to meetings Jack was too friggin’ lazy to go to himself. Can’t exactly bring it in me to trust _another_ major weapons manufacturer.” He furrowed his brows and tapped his forefinger a few times over the zipper of his jacket. “Atlas is still doing weapons, right?”

“Right,” Moxxi answered carefully. She held up a hand to silence him so that she could continue. “It’s not my place to say, but the guy has his own history with Jack. I’ve told you about the Fall, already, remember?”

Both eyebrows shot up at the mention of that. It was something Tim would never forget. The station that he defended with his life filled with some of the best and worst memories came crashing down -- literally. It was hard _not_ to remember. “Uh, yeah. ‘Course.”

“Rhys was the one who caused it,” she said vaguely. Tim’s jaw hung open in shock. “Lots of drama that, again, not my place to say, but when Rhys climbed out with Atlas like a stubborn little phoenix he has been very adamant that he would do everything he could to never be Handsome Jack. So far, I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Do you trust him?” Tim asked after digesting her words. Moxxi rolled her eyes and he felt a little silly for asking.

“I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t,” she said. “I like to think I’m a great judge of character. For all the bluster and over bloated confidence the guy has, he’s been nothing but a doll. A little whiny, but that just means you’ll fit right in.”

“Hey!” Tim totally did not whine in response.

Instead of verbally replying, Moxxi patted the top of his head and stood up from the bed. Tim bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pouting, but judging by the amused smirk from his terrible lady friend she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well, I’ve got to set the course and then check on my bar to see if operations are still running smoothly. Rhys sent me a few designs for some cyber replacements for your hand that I’ll forward to you on your ECHO.” She reached for the door, but paused, sending him an almost weary look over her shoulder. “And _please_ stay inside, sugar. I’d rather not hear screams down the hall of Handsome Jack coming back from the dead.”

“My disguise isn’t _that_ bad,” Tim tried. Moxxi’s blank stare made him squirm. “Okay, okay. Come back soon?”

Moxxi’s face softened instantly. “Of course, hun.” Blowing a kiss and tossing a wink, she was gone.

Being left on his own meant Tim was once again left with his thoughts. His mind wandered towards his new host? Employer? He bit down on his tongue to stop the latest Jackism from blurting out -- he’s gotten a lot better at catching them beforehand -- and reached for his ECHO attached to the pouch on his hip.

While in the casino, the lockdown essentially severed the occupants from the outside world. No ECHOnet, no radio waves, no direct link to Helios (though, to be fair, he’s sure if he managed to somehow get into the tower there would have been but _apparently_ the station crashed a year into his imprisonment). Moxxi gave him an upgraded ECHO with the entire galaxy at his fingertips, but he hadn’t bothered actually exploring. 

Opening up the ECHOweb, he typed in the stupidest name he ever heard in his life -- which was saying something, considering who his former employer was.

Several million results popped up almost instantly. He scrolled through several articles (A whole paper dedicated to the guy’s hair care routine? Seriously?) until he finally gave up and clicked on the CEO’s wiki entry.

The first thing that caught his eye was the picture of the very man he was researching. It was an older one judging from the caption below it, most likely when Atlas first made it back onto the scene. The man had heterochromic eyes -- one a pleasant warm brown and the other striking amber -- which was something that only seemed to make Tim uncomfortable. He noted that the amber one was an ECHOeye which eased his nerves somewhat, as silly as it sounded.

He could admit that Rhys was good looking. There was a youthfulness to his face that made him charming, his cheekbones sharp yet his jaw softening the look. The color scheme of black and amber was easy on the eyes as well, which only drew attention to the blue tattoos that peeked from underneath the left side of the man’s collar.

Good looks aside, Tim still wasn’t trusting a corporate suit just by attractiveness alone. 

Clicking down, he began to read up more on the man.

> _“Rhys Strongfork (born September 30th) is a Demeterian entrepreneur, weapons proprietor, cybernetics industrialist, and investor. He is best known as the CEO and president of the weapons company Atlas. Strongfork patented the Smart-Bullet technology used in modern Atlas weapons, placing the company back into the forefront of dealers galaxywide._
> 
> _Born on Demeter, Strongfork graduated from L30 University on Eden-5. He holds a degree in computer programming and electrical engineering. After graduation, he acquired an internship at Hyperion where he eventually--”_

Tim closed the tab.

Before he could properly articulate to himself over how he felt on what he read, Moxxi’s contact name pinged above the screen with an attachment. He clicked on it without a thought and was met with their familiar ECHOlog texts.

>> **Moxxi**

> _need a hand? ;)_

>See Attachment

“You already made that joke,” Tim muttered with an eye roll, but clicked on the file anyway. Several dozen designs of cybernetic hands filled his screen, all with the same varying combination of red and silver. 

He sat up and comfortably propped the pillow behind his back so he could scroll through the designs with a careful eye. This would at least give him a distraction from what he read. Being in the same building as a man who used to work for Hyperion, knew Handsome Jack, is a CEO of their own company, _and_ had two different colored eyes was overwhelming.

He’ll deal with that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rhysie's up next chapter :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim reunites with some old friends and meets Rhys. Sparks fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suffered from terrible writers block and still pulled nearly 6k outta me...i really executived my functions this time

Turned out being stuck in a room for hours on end wasn’t much better for Tim’s mental health than the casino.

It also turned out that having the entire knowledge of the galaxy just a click away on his ECHO was overwhelming as hell.

After settling on a hand design he liked (there were so many designs and while the finger guns one sounded badass, he wanted to try and transition into a normal life) he went on to distract himself by catching up on what he missed in the past seven years.

He caught a few clips from the Calypso’s streams and read up the Atlas-Maliwan attempted merger (any articles that delved too deep on the Atlas CEO were promptly exited). There were also videos upon videos of people celebrating Handsome Jack’s death — which, apparently, had a holiday dedicated to it. It was a more welcomed change to the others Jack had even if the piñatas being busted open was with a face similar to his own.

It was a lot to process, of course. Almost an entire decade of information was lost on him and no matter what he read, Tim felt like he was no closer to actually understanding what he had lost. It was enough to make him feel like a stranger in his own body -- like he was experiencing it from another person’s perspective. The more he read, the worse he felt. Even seeing random cat videos was distressing given the timestamps because they were off doing cat shenanigans while he was off the grid with no way to know about said shenanigans. Silly, sure, but his mind latched onto that uncomfortable aspect.

Then there were the articles about Angel.

They were few and far between. Most of them had vague lines concerning her or if they did mention her it was offhandedly. Despite the limited talk, they all agreed on the same thing: Handsome Jack had a daughter the entire time he was CEO of Hyperion, she was a siren, and she was dead.

Tim managed to find some blog talk about the funeral service they held for her. It felt out of place given the robotic aesthetic it had, but it was obvious by the posts it was very personal and the author knew the girl in some way or another. He had to stop reading once he noticed how hard his hands were shaking.

_Angel?_

His mind traveled back to when he was forced to do propaganda footage for Jack down on Pandora. It was so long ago that the details were fuzzy, but there was always one aspect that remained true. On every trip Timothy would chat with an AI that would alert him of what bandit camps to raid for footage of the latest Hyperion prototypes. The AI came from the 4N63L Satellite — or Angel, for short.

Tim wasn’t all that well versed with coding — only the basics that Jack forced him to learn — so the fact the AI could speak directly to him had been freaky but nothing that genuinely alarmed him. It wasn’t like he knew how an AI would even work anyway. Besides, she had been a grounding figure to have and speak to in his long nights playing ‘hero’. Loaderbots could only hold so many conversations. Her AI was a lot more advanced and she seemed to understand human emotions more than any he had ever met before.

At least, he thought it was an AI.

Thinking of Angel locked away reminded him of Felicity which reminded him of Gladstone which reminded him that he was just a terrible person in general because, despite his guilt, he let it all happen.

Tim was inadvertently just as responsible for Angel’s death as Jack was. He may not have known she was a living person, but he was more or less Jack. He _should_ have suspected something. He _should_ have pressed for more on how the AI worked. 

But he didn’t. Because Timothy Lawrence was a coward and it was safer to stick to the shadows than speak out of turn.

“Nice. Turn the poor girl’s death into a self-pity party. I am the worst,” Tim groaned. He made a mental note to do something in memory of her. A vague recollection to an old conversation between them of her sounding fascinated over Pandora’s fauna during his trips popped into his head and he held onto that.

As he mulled over how to go about honoring Angel’s memory in a way that wasn’t in poor taste, he turned over to lay on his side to try and map it out mentally on the wall. The movement caused a sharp pain to poke into his thigh and he hissed in surprise. 

Sitting up, he patted it only to find a bulge in his pocket. He blinked and reached in before quickly making a face at the texture the slimy present he nearly forgot.

“Oh. Yeah. It’d be rude if I didn’t at least open it.” He fished the small box out from his pocket and held it in his lap. The Mayor of Trashlantis was very vocal about not believing in consumerism so Tim wasn’t exactly sure what kind of gift would come from that. Something homemade, perhaps? 

Lifting the lid revealed a note folded up neatly in a perfect square. The box felt a little heavier than just a piece of paper so he furrowed his brows before picking it up. Once he did, he jerked back in surprise.

Inside was a familiar watch. The screen was scratched, the leather strap was worn, and there was a visible crack running down the sides of the face, but it was _the_ watch. _His_ watch.

Tim hastily picked up the note and awkwardly unfolded it with one hand, his excitement nearly choking him. Compared to the frayed box, it was surprisingly clean and well kept. The idea that the Mayor went out of his way to possibly find some paper outside of Trashlantis made Tim’s heart flutter in fondness. The writing was in a neat, loopy cursive and carefully spaced so as to be as legible as possible.

> “ _Dear Timothy,_
> 
> _While news of your departure from the casino was rather abrupt, there has been a gift that the grateful citizens of Trashlantis wanted to bestow upon you before your travels._
> 
> _Without your brave sacrifice, the casino — and Trashlantis along with it — would have surely perished that fateful night. For that, we are in your debt._
> 
> _After the fall of Pretty Boy, his trash was to become another’s treasure — meaning ours. This watch was one of these very same items. I recognized it instantly as it was one of the only items that separated you and the other doppelgangers during your fittings. As it only interfaces via Jack’s bio signature we were unable to measure whether or not it was operational._
> 
> _With the limited tinkering provided from our new loaderbot citizens we can only hope it will turn on for you._
> 
> _Safe travels and may you find the answers you are looking for, Timothy Lawrence._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _The Mayor and Citizens of Trashlantis”_

Tim sat there in silence for some time, unsure he was even breathing. He read and reread the letter for what seemed like hours though he was sure it had only for a handful of minutes.

Slowly, he lifted the watch out of the box and placed it over his knee. He stared at it hard and willed himself not to get his hopes up considering the state it was in. He gingerly swiped his fingers across the surface and held his tongue as he waited.

Nothing happened.

Even with his talk of not getting his hopes up, Tim’s shoulders sagged. “C’mon,” he mumbled and swiped his fingers again. When he got the same results, he swiped harder.

“Ow!” he yelped and drew his hand back when a sudden jolt of electricity stung him.

“Jack here!” his distorted voice sounded behind him.

“The real one!” it continued, this time a few feet to the other side of his shoulder.

Tim whirled around and nearly screamed at the sight of the two Jack holograms. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself so as to not alert the people of Sanctuary, but his grin was so wide he was sure that if the mask wasn’t practically second skin it would have cracked. 

The digital clones looked as if their code was constantly breaking and repairing, small specks of clothing and skin falling to the floor with a splash before reappearing just as quickly. They were digistructs so calling their appearance sickly didn’t quite match up, but there was an uncanny oddity to the way their bodies glitched. Occasionally a limb would disappear or a whole section of their face, yet their coded twin grins never faded.

Other than that they looked more or less like he last saw them: dressed exactly head to toe as Handsome Jack, complete with their own mask and decorative pocket watch.

“Rightie! Leftie!” Tim squealed in excitement. The clones pointed at one another silently and he quickly backtracked. The two always spawned in the same exact positions when called on and considering his position on the bed, Tim was sure they had done so behind him so as to not clip into the furniture. “Sorry, sorry. _Leftie_ , _Rightie_.”

They both lit up once their names were corrected and simultaneously flashed a thumbs up. “Who needs a hero?” they asked in unison.

“Oh my God, you have no idea how much I missed you guys,” Tim sniffled and got up to throw his arms around the two. They were corporeal for around a minute before they flickered, causing him to stumble through them and nearly collide into the nearby desk.

“Right. Okay. No hugs, I guess.” He straightened up and turned back to face them, his smile looking mildly uncomfortable as he watched the way their bodies glitched at various areas. “That’s not horrifying at all. Nope.”

Leftie took note of Tim’s missing hand and pointed at it with a distressed look. Rightie seemed furious once he caught on, the volatile emotion making his form flicker much more violently than before.

“Oh, uh, this? I kiiiinda lost it?” Tim raised up his arm to give the clones a better look. He felt his neck heat up in embarrassment at their twin stares of incredulousness and began to rub at it to cool off. “It’s no biggie. Cutting it off saved a lot of people and, like, is kinda the reason I got you guys back, so…”

They didn’t look all that pleased with Tim’s answer. He didn’t care as long as they were actually here with him. It was a welcomed change to his earlier spiral of emotions.

Before he could reassure them again that it was fine, the door to the room opened up. 

Two pairs of blasters raised to aim at the figure at the door, but Tim quickly jumped in front of them without even properly registering who it was yet.

“Guys, guys! No shooting!” he pleaded with his arms outstretched.

“You know, I figured leaving you alone here would end up with you playing with yourself, but this is not what I was picturing,” Moxxi’s voice said from behind him, her tone simultaneously unimpressed and cautious. Considering the situation they were currently in, Tim wished he had her confidence.

When the clones still refused to put their blasters down, Tim waved his arms in frustration to get their attention off of Moxxi. “She’s a friend! I know you remember her as a target and, yeah, she tried to kill me, I guess, but she’s a friend now! Now stop -- just stop _pointing_ those at me. You’re freaking me out.”

Slowly, the clones lowered their weapons. They looked at each other in silent conversation before taking a step back to give the two humans room. Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and Moxxi stood to his side with her hands on her hips.

“Been a while since I’ve seen these two,” she said with a calculating tilt of her head. Her eyes strayed to watch the way their forms broke and built up again. Tim could practically see the gears turning in her pretty head. “They’re not exactly in the best shape. Is that why you didn’t use them against Pretty Boy?”

“Er, no. I didn’t have them on me at all during the Pretty Boy kidnapping thing. Which totally sucked, by the way. I’d have my friggin’ hand if they were with me. That box the Mayor sent me as a gift had them inside” At the questioning raise of her bow, Tim continued. “I...let’s just say they were taken from me four? Five-ish years in?”

“Pretty Boy?” Moxxi asked and returned her stare to the silent clones.

“Uh, sure. Sure, let’s go with that,” Tim answered and ignored the way her eyes snapped back to him for more. “Well, I should probably introduce you since they didn’t exactly have names the last time we all were together. Also the whole saving the moon thing didn’t give us a chance to really chat. And the exploding eye thing.”

“Timothy,” Moxxi sighed exasperatedly yet so fondly. It made his chest feel tight.

“Right! Right. So, aaaanyway. This here is Rightie--” Tim pointed to the clone on the right who lifted a hand in greeting that immediately flickered out of existence. “And this here is Leftie.” He did the same to the clone on the right who waggled their brows and ran a hand through their hair, spilling code all over the floor at the motion.

“Hello there,” Leftie crooned with a wink.

“Don’t worry, they only talk in prerecorded lines even if they have the whole Jackness personality in them,” Tim assured.

“I’m more concerned with your naming ability. Rightie? Leftie?” 

“Rightie always spawns to the right and Leftie spawns to the left! It just sorta happened after lots of battles and confusing name calling -- look, I don’t gotta explain my thinking process,” Tim huffed and crossed his arms. Moxxi laughed and shook her head, raising her hands in surrender.

“Okay, sugar. Just expected something else from a creative writing major,” Moxxi said as she moved to circle the clones to get a better look at their glitches.

“Oh. Was that my major? I honestly forgot,” Tim murmured in surprise. 

Moxxi didn’t comment on that, which Tim was thankful for. She wasn’t one for handing out pity when she knew it would worsen his feelings on the matter. 

Regardless, it felt nice to know she remembered something so innocuous about him. It made him feel like he made a lasting impression despite the whole attempted murder.

“Terrible names aside--”

“ _Excuse_ me!”

“--you shouldn’t bring them out around Rhys,” Moxxi said, her lips turning down to a frown at the way the digistructs flickered wildly with every prod of her finger. “Like I said, nasty history with Jack and all.”

Tim pursed his lips and watched his clones with a worried furrow of his brow. He had been hoping to have someone at Atlas take a look at the watch to help with the obvious corruption of code, but he didn’t want to risk losing them over that. “...Okay.”

A sudden burst of light blue code filled the room and the two raised their arms protectively over their face on instinct, startling them out of their conversation. Tim lowered his down first, anxiety plain on his features, and saw Rightie staring at the spot where Leftie had previously been occupied.

“That kill was sponsored by Hyperion,” Rightie said, though he looked frustrated the second it left his mouth. Before Tim could even respond, Rightie’s form burst in the same bright light, washing over the two in surprisingly warm code.

“Huh.” Tim glanced down at his watch once his eyes adjusted. He bit his lower lip at the drained battery symbol. That wasn’t normal but it wasn’t like he could fix it right away. At least he had been able to check in on the clones.

“Did they always disappear like that?” Moxxi asked apprehensively, dusting herself off of code that was no longer there.

“No...and the battery usually lasted way longer…”

A pool of dread filled Tim’s stomach at the idea of losing his companions for the second time. Moxxi seemed to sense this immediately because it wasn’t long before her slender arm was looped around his waist in a comforting hold.

“Well, they were modeled after Jack and he was always one for premature endings,” she said coyly.

“Ew, Mox, c’mon, stop,” Tim whined but couldn’t stop it from petering off into laughter. She tugged him towards the desk where his disguise was and lifted up his shades, twirling them idly on her pointer finger.

“Cover up that pretty face so we can head on out and I will.”

* * *

In the end, Moxxi wasn’t able to join Tim on Promethea.

With her gone, a few of the former looters turned employees had tried to stage a mutiny. Ember had held them off with her fire but it seemed she got a little too enthusiastic. Sections of the casino that were near completion were gone, and once again bullet holes, blood, and burns riddled a good majority of the site.

 _I wasn’t liking the design choice anyway_ , Moxxi had said when she first got the news, though Tim had heard the underlying annoyance in her voice, _If you need me, Timothy, I’ll be at the casino. Call if anything, sugar._

Before leaving, the vault hunter that laughed obnoxiously earlier — Zane, Tim remembered — offered a [ filtered mask ](https://borderlands.fandom.com/wiki/Zane/Skins?file=Zane_Suction_Filter.jpg) he bought from Crazy Earl (nice to know that guy was still around and kicking) as an apology for ‘makin’ a drunk arse outta meself’, as he so put it. That was honestly very touching and Tim would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little emotional. Which in itself said so much about how starved he was for any type of human affection.

There was also a chance the gift was probably Zane trying to weasel out of that tab Moxxi had placed in retaliation, but Tim was willing to look the other way.

It didn’t cover his eyes, so the gaudy round shades were still being put to use. Which was fine; Tim thought they looked pretty cool all things considered. The mask certainly brought a much more serious element than the glittery scarf had.

What Tim hadn’t expected once he stepped out the drop pod was just how _different_ Promethea was. Moxxi had informed him that it was now considered a megapolitan city-planet but this felt so unreal.

The image of a barren wasteland filled with nothing but desperate anarchy was no more. Towering buildings loomed at every corner as it seemed technology overtook nature. Pandora had a way of making him feel small with all of its expansive and endless nothingness, yet the overwhelming presence of man made buildings managed to bring the same effect.

It was a bit like entering the casino for the first time; starstruck and full of awe at the prospect of staying.

The trip to Atlas HQ by himself was admittedly a little daunting, so Tim took the scenic route. Moxxi had been nice enough to hook him up with access codes to the local Catch-A-Rides, but he wanted to stretch his legs and sight see. If that also meant avoiding his meeting with a certain CEO then that was just as well.

The place was _huge_ and all the Atlas logos stamped around the area made his palms itch. The only thing that stopped him from outright bolting back to Sanctuary was the comforting weight of his watch on his wrist.

Actually making it onto Atlas Campus made that feeling worse. His throat felt tight as he fumbled with his ECHO to read the directions Moxxi had given him. They were easy enough and the pretentious names managed to roll his anxiety over to something mildly annoyed. 

Despite recovering from the whole invasion thing, security was a bit lax. Maybe Moxxi informed Strongfork of how he was dressed beforehand? It was the only explanation Tim could come up with for why it took zero stops from any Atlas soldiers on his way to the elevator. An escort would have been nice, though. Certainly would have saved him the trouble of awkwardly pausing every so often to look down at his map to make sure he was going in the right direction.

 _Hyperion would have never let me through the courtyard, let alone the lobby_ , he thought to himself as he punched in the button for the CEO’s office. He shook that line of thinking off and steeled himself, his heart suddenly filling with dread at going at this meeting alone.

“Oh, of _course_ this asshole’s office is so freaking high up and of _course_ the elevator has glass walls. It’s pretentious douche-assery 101, Tim. Get with the program,” Tim groaned uncomfortably and stared resolutely at the ceiling. 

After the longest elevator ride of his miserable existence, Tim was finally let into the Executive Suite. He squinted down the hall and felt his annoyance mount at just how _far_ it went.

“God, I hate rich people,” he grumbled to himself. Making his way to the secretary, he awkwardly waved his hand and cleared his throat to gain her attention. The doors were all open but he figured it was polite to give a heads up. “Uh, hi. I’ve got a meeting with the CEO? Rhys, um, Strongfork?”

The woman glanced up from her computer and flashed a pleasant smile. “Of course. Just down the hall, Mr. Moxxi,” she informed with a point of her finger down the way.

“Mr. Mo—? Okay. Yeah. Sure. Why not. Uhh, thanks…” Tim peered down at her desk for a name plate. “...Merideth. Have a nice one, pumpkin.”

So Moxxi didn’t bother giving his name? Either she forgot or withheld it for another reason entirely. Tim really hoped for the first one. Sometimes she really liked to live up to her clown motif and he wasn’t exactly in the mood.

Making his way down the hall, Tim couldn’t help but gawk when the ceilings climbed higher and the walls were eventually replaced with massive fish tanks. There was some vague movement all the way down by the office that he didn't bother registering, not when there were _fish tanks the size of the ceiling_.

“Oh come _on_ ,” he spluttered, careful to keep his voice down. “This has to be a sign that the guy has an ego the size of Elpis. I’m pretty sure half of those fish are freaking dead.” Narrowing his eyes at an actual dead fish just floating by, Tim pulled his jacket around him tighter. “Christ...this looks like an evil lair to some villain in one of those old ECHOtube shorts.”

It took a minute or two to collect himself from the internal monologues of the evils of the rich in power who spend their money on garbage. When he was good, he took in a deep breath and continued walking.

Tim could see the office now. It was still a distance away, but there were three clear figures behind the desk: one in the surprisingly modest chair given the state of the entire room and two flanking on either side. The one at the chair, presumably Strongfork, was spinning at odd intervals and sometimes waved his hands in a flourish. It was until Tim was halfway through the aquarium walkway that the one on the left with the shock of teal in their hair pointed him out. The chair quickly swiveled around to face away from him, and behind the mask Tim frowned.

Once he finally stepped into the office and stood awkwardly a few feet away, Tim coughed to try and gain the CEO’s attention since the two at his side weren’t bothering to do so. “Er, hi, Mr. Strongfork, sir.”

“Please,” the man behind the chair said with the smarmiest corporate voice Tim had ever heard in his life — and he has heard a _lot_ , “call me Rhys.”

Then, the chair finally moved. As it spun, Tim could see the deep red cybernetic arm raise in greeting in a way that gave him déjà vu. 

Two things hit him simultaneously after that. One, Strongfork — no, _Rhys_ — had apparently spent the entire walk up here practicing his dramatic reveal. And two—

“Ho-ho-hooooly friggin’ nutsack on a stick, what the hell is on your friggin’ _face_?” Tim blurted out before he could stop himself. He bursted out in booming laughter and clutched his chest, genuine tears prickling his eyes at the sight of Rhys’ dumbstruck expression. “That is the ugliest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life! And I thought _Tassiter’s_ taste in facial hair was bad! Oh man, oh-ho man. Talk about _catfish_. You should really update your wiki, kiddo. You are _definitely_ not wetting any pants with _that_.”

Rhys jerked back into his seat as if slapped and his two associates were instantly at his side to stop the chair from falling over. Tim gasped loudly and smacked his hand over his mask since his mouth was hidden beneath.

“Oh my — I am so so _sosososo_ sorry, Mr. Strongfork, er, Rhys, sir!” Tim immediately apologized. The fact Rhys only seemed to pale at that only made him feel worse. “I don’t know what Moxxi’s told you, but I’m just a Handsome Jack body double! And, uh, I kinda got spliced with an itsy bitsy teeny tiny amount of his DNA?”

Rhys looked ready to go into cardiac arrest hearing that. 

“Just a bit, I swear! It makes me say things, is all! Haven't strangled any orphan puppies yet, so, heh, score one for me, right?” Tim quickly added on.

A hard smack to Rhys’ back from the teal one jolted him back to reality and he straightened up instantly. “No no nonono, it’s cool. It’s chill. Yeah, super fine. I already knew you were a double but...wow. Talk about uncanny, huh?” He attempted to go for humor, but his voice was still too jumpy to even remotely land it.

“Right…” Tim fiddled with his shades and awkwardly glanced away. If this was how the other man reacted to just his voice then he _really_ did not want to see what his face would do.

“But...was that all the DNA or…?”

Tim looked back at Rhys and took in the imploring expression. The guy was still fidgeting uncomfortably despite it all. An egocentric with a massive insecurity streak? Yeah, this was going to be annoying.

“Oh, uh, nnnnyyyesss. Yes. Totally. Y’know how Jack was. Hah. A real asshole. It takes everything in me not to call Moxxi ‘balloon tits’.” Tim paused. “Please don’t tell her I said that. She’ll take off my other hand and I really like my hand.”

Apparently that wasn’t the answer Rhys wanted to hear because he sagged heavily in his chair. “Oh. Alright.” He ran his fingers across his mustache with a contemplative frown. 

“It looks okay! Ish! I can’t exactly be one to give advice since the first time I ever grew out hair on my face was ‘cause Jack had a godawful flavor savor, so, yeah.”

Rhys squinted up at him and it made Tim squirm. It was like he could see how hard Rhys was trying to visualize the soul patch despite the mask in place, judging by the telltale dilation of the ECHOeye. “...Okay. I will remember that.”

Teal cleared their throat and nudged Rhys’ shoulder with an elbow when the room lapsed into a beat of silence. They looked as though they wanted to say something, but restrained themselves. Tim had a feeling that the quiet from the two (mainly Teal) was implemented as some sort of dramatic intimidation factor, just like the chair reveal. Faceless McLegs didn’t seem the talkative type, though -- more like the stab-first-ask-questions-later, if that sword attached to their back was anything to go by.

“Soooo...since you were so comfortable insulting me to my face, I think it’s only fair I get to see yours before we continue.” There was a nervous excitement to Rhys’ words and Tim was beginning to worry about just what kind of history the man had with Jack. People only got that look in their eye concerning him when they wanted to hurt Jack without the actual consequences from the handsome douche himself. 

There was a tense silence from Tim before he finally relented with a jerky nod of his head. He unclasped the mask and gingerly set it on the desk and then removed his shades, angling his face downwards so the hood still fell over him. He needed a moment to himself to at least try to collect his nerves. Too much too fast tended to trigger a default Handsome Jack response out of some kind of self preservation instinct.

When he finally pushed the hood back and stood straight, he heard the way Rhys struggled to breathe first before actually catching the way the cyborg’s eyes widened in fear. Tim flinched and dropped whatever confidence he tried to summon, guilt eating him alive. That caused Rhys to activate his ECHOeye, the bright blue glow of the tech making Tim feel nauseous.

“If you’re trying to scan the mask you’re not gonna get much. Probably some error messages. I think even some niche fetish Cl4P-TP unit porn. I have no idea, just that Jack liked his privacy and had a sick sense of humor,” Tim said dryly and nervously ran his hand through his hair.

That seemed to snap Rhys out of his scan and he blinked, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever message did pop up. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“Yeah, yeah, I look just like him. It’s called a body double, pumpkin. I know concepts are hard for that walnut sized brain of yours, but -- oh! Sorry. Did it again,” Tim rushed out in an embarrassed jumble. He had gotten so good at holding these impulses at bay lately. All this new territory was making it hard to reel in.

“Uh…” Rhys made a face, clearly unnerved. “I...you look genuinely apologetic. That’s so weird.”

Tim scowled and rubbed the leather of his watch’s strap to keep him from snapping a classic Jack threat. “It’s because I’m _not_ Jack. I’m my own person. Speaking of, aren’t we gonna talk about my new employment? Because I don’t work for Jack? Hm?”

“Right, right. Sorry. Can we start this over? I don’t think we got off on the right foot here,” Rhys apologized and stood up from his chair. He extended out his flesh hand and smiled in a way that still meant business, but in a let’s-have-this-discussion-over-brunch kind of way. “I’m Rhys Strongfork, Atlas CEO and sitting president. It’s a pleasure to meet my new prospective employee in charge of testing the latest state-of-the-art Atlas tech.”

Tim bit back a sigh and took the offered hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. It was another Jack habit he had to break and judging by the still pleasant smile on Rhys’ face he managed to do just that. “Even with all that it’s already a better change of pace than dodging bullets and cutting off my own hand. Nice to meet you, Rhys. Name’s Timothy--”

“ _Doppelman_?” Rhys exclaimed suddenly, his hand holding Tim’s in a vice grip.

Tim’s smile froze in place. Rhys’ face instantly burst into a colorful shade of red. To his right, Faceless McLegs’ helmet lit up with a bright red ‘ **?** ’. Teal looked as confused as the symbol.

“I’m going to kill Moxxi,” Tim said after an uncomfortable silence, his smile still very much plastered on his face. “I’m going to kill Moxxi and then I’m going to kill myself. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thanks for the employment, boss, I’m sure the benefits HR cooked up were stellar, but I need to jump out of your nearest window.”

“I’m so sorry, Timothy--” Rhys started.

“ _Lawrence_ ,” Tim cut in.

“--Lawrence. Timothy Lawrence. I’m so so _so_ sorry, Timothy Lawrence. That was so inappropriate. I’m not usually like this, I swear!” At Tim’s unimpressed stare, Rhys only seemed to get impossibly redder. “Uh, right! Okay! My associate Lorelei here will be giving you a tour and then your room. We can talk employment tomorrow -- that is, if you still want to work here. If not, totally understandable! Just no jumping out of windows, please. Or anything similar on Atlas property. Which -- which is a _joke_ , obviously. A little corporate humor. Because I totally _totally_ don’t want you doing that at all regardless of where it is. Aaaand I’m rambling. I’ll shut up now and let you go on your tour, possibly even smack my head against my desk for a few good hours. I’m shutting up now. Yes. Okay. Now.”

Tim stared down at their still joined hands and Rhys followed the double’s line of sight, blinking dumbly. “Oh!” Rhys quickly let go and Tim took that opportunity to wipe his hand across his jeans, wrinkling his nose at how clammy the other man’s hand had gotten in such a short amount of time.

“Now, about that tour,” Teal interrupted with a large grin. They came to Tim’s side and jerked their thumb towards the exit, a sight that Tim was so thankful to see. “I’m Lorelei, by the way. Just in case that was lost in the whole Rhys-a-nese there.”

“Please tell me you’re normal,” Tim asked sullenly. Lorelei laughed and began to lead him away from the office. From the reflection of the fish tanks, Tim could see Faceless McLegs place a consoling hand on Rhys’ shoulder with a ‘ **LOL** ’ projected.

“What’s that inner-planet saying? ‘Normal is just a setting on a washing machine’ or somethin’ as equally cringeworthy?” Lorelei said, absently waving to Merideth as they passed by her desk to enter the elevator. Tim waved to her as well and at the brief look of surprise of the secretary’s face he gasped, raising a hand to cover his face. Still, she waved back, her shock gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh, don’t worry about hiding your face. Rhys already informed the base a Handsome Jack double would be roaming around,” Lorelei said offhandedly once the elevator doors closed. “Jack’s influence over Promethea wasn’t as heavy as it was over the lot over on Pandora and her sister planets. I think you’ll find we Prometheans don’t give much of a ratch’s arse about Jack. A right bastard, sure, but he’s dead. It’s over. We’ve got other corporations to worry over.”

“Ah…” Tim skimmed his fingers across the cracked portion of his mask. “Not being shot at for who I look like is gonna be weird.”

“Hopefully a good weird,” Lorelei supplied. They leaned against the glass wall of the elevator and dragged their eyes over to Tim’s form, staring at him like he was a puzzle to solve. Just as Tim was going to open his mouth to ask ‘something on my face?’, they suddenly beamed and smacked their fist into their open palm. “Tames Pandora! _That’s_ what that bloody idiot was talking about!”

“I take it back. I’d rather cut my hand off again,” Tim deadpanned, ignoring the bubbling laughter of his new coworker.

Tim couldn’t help but wonder if Moxxi’s bartending position still needed to be filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh timmy you'll have more fun next chapter i promise


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim takes a tour and then settles in for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im a liar

The tour was long, but Lorelei made it exciting by animatedly talking about what happened to different areas during the attempted corporate take over. 

Apparently Atlas HQ had once looked like a warzone. Despite Maliwan attempting a few more attacks after their initial takeover, the campus was pristine. With every point of Lorelei’s finger it became harder and harder to hold in his disbelief.

Which wasn’t to say he tried all that hard to begin with. The nerves building up inside of him from that confrontation with Rhys left him feeling frazzled. Jackisms spewed out more often than not, and, to a certain extent, his own criticisms of the architecture spilled too. It started off as voicing that the war couldn’t have been _that_ bad to just becoming Rhys having terrible taste in _everything_.

Lorelei took it all in stride. If anything, they thought it was hilarious. The two of them got along surprisingly well and he was preening under the newest bit of human interaction.

“I’m just saying, ‘The Lobby of Self-Actualization’?” Tim made air quotes with his single hand, hoping the exaggerated way he moved them would make up for the lack of the other. “That’s so…”

“Yeah,” Lorelei snickered in agreement even without the thought being completed.

“And The Courtyard of Innovation is just…”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe Atlas Campus is the right word for this place. It feels like a college that’s trying too hard to seem up to date yet indie and ‘with the kids’ even with the whole retro vibe,” Tim complained as he eyed the scenery. They were walking further from the corporate aspect of the campus and towards the living quarters. It reminded him too much of his old university back on Eden.

Lorelei squinted at the building and then looked back at Timothy and then back to building again. “Okay, I get your point.”

“See?” Tim raised his arms above his head dramatically. “No offense, but that Rhys guy seems like the kind who peaked in college and is just chasing that high every waking chance he’s got.”

Lorelei had a strange look on their face and it caused Tim to blanche. “I — well, I mean, like, as a joke, obviously! Haha, darn DNA. Can’t control my tongue sometimes. So, uh, how about that room, huh? The room I’m hopefully still getting despite my big ol’ mouth?” he quickly added on.

The booming laugh from Lorelei wasn’t helping Tim’s nerves in the slightest. He rubbed the leather strap of his watch and ducked his head in embarrassment. A heavy hand slapping him heartily on his back made him squawk and splutter, stumbling forward towards the front doors.

“You’re alright in my book, Tim’o,” Lorelei said through their laugh and slid an ID card to gain access to the doors.

Tim winced. Pretty Boy’s face popped in his mind as did the ache of phantom fingers where his hand used to be. “Not a fan of that nickname.”

“Timbo?”

“Oh God no.”

“Timtam?”

“It’s like everyone here _wants_ me to quit.”

Lorelei laughed again and led Tim down to another elevator. Thankfully this one wasn’t as obscenely high as the one for the Executive Suite.

“Timmers,” they continued.

“Absolutely not,” Tim shot down. 

“Timmy.”

“Hmmm...mmmmaaayybe,” Tim said. The elevator dinged and they both stepped out, walking down the winding halls towards where he would hopefully be staying. “Tim’s just fine, y’know. Timmy’s cool, I guess, but it makes me sound like I’m some ten year old.”

“You whine like one,” Lorelei mused as they stopped in front of a particular door.

“I’m gonna go rough it out on Pandora at this rate,” Tim groused and stared hard at the door as if that would magically make it open. “I swear, everyone is out to freakin’ get me. First Moxxi pulls the whole no-name thing, then Weakknife admits to my face he’s seen my junk, and now you’re bullying me. I met you, like, what? An hour ago? I need to talk to HR.”

“To be fair on poor Rhys, Hyperion really poured their money into advertising your little film back in the day. Wouldn’t be surprised if it had been a mandatory view for employees,” Lorelei said while sliding the same ID card through the doors keypad. Once the LED turned green, they pushed through. 

“Don’t remind me. I’m trying to psychically lock and repress every single Hyperion memory I have. I swear if I ever have to see that goddamn poster ever again...” Tim groaned. 

From the way Lorelei was biting back an obvious shit eating grin, they clearly wanted to say more on the subject, but decided to be merciful and instead directed their attention towards the rest of the room.

“Well, here you are. Got you a lounge, a bedroom, a bathroom, balcony — the whole works.”

It was certainly much larger than any dorm Tim had ever seen. It was larger than the first apartment he’d ever rented, honestly. Nothing compared to the VIP sections in the casino, but the lack of Jack busts staring him down at every turn was a major bonus.

He walked around the living room and took it all in, a little disappointed at the continued theme of red and silver. They weren’t his favorite colors. Not to mention he was annoyed at being taken away from Hyperion yellow just to slip into some Atlas red. A brand was a brand, either way.

“Here’s your keycard. It’s a temp ‘till Rhys gets all the employee paperwork done tomorrow. Still should work just fine ‘round campus,” Lorelei said as they placed the card into Tim’s open palm. 

“Thanks.” Tim pocketed it, feeling a little uneasy. It wasn’t that he _liked_ the Hyperion set up he was trapped in before — it’s just he was familiar with it. The new territory was making him anxious.

Which in itself was ridiculous. The entire point was to get a change of scenery.

“You alright there?” Lorelei asked with a touch of concern.

“Yeah, never better,” Tim lied.

There was a brief silence as Lorelei scrutinized him — and for a very terrible moment, Tim thought they were going to call him out on it and two of them were going to forced to have a heart to heart — but instead they just shrugged.

“Well, make yourself at home. Shopping district and food courts are still open, but if you’re still cautious because of your, uh...situation…” They gestured to their own face and it made Tim shuffle uncomfortably. “...then you can order in. _DoorMates_ is already synced up to the telly. Boss man is pretty fond of eating in.” 

“I...yeah, thanks. Again.”

“No problem.” Lorelei opened the door and turned partially back to Tim. “And welcome to Atlas.”

“Yay me,” Tim said with a grimace, making Lorelei snort. Then, it was just him in his new room.

Taking another look around, Tim felt that familiar conflicted feeling creep in again. The interior design was very minimalist and abstract; nothing at all like Jack’s penchant for the most in your face I’m-rich-and-can-afford-absolutely-every-style-at-once kind of decorating. 

It felt too bare. Somehow, it managed to make him claustrophobic despite all the space.

Wanting to distract himself, Tim pulled out his ECHO and made good on his promise of calling his friends at the casino.

The chatter between familiar voices was nice. Ember updated him on the repairs, he exchanged some playful flirting with Trent, and DL announced they were gonna give the Clapstructor relationship a shot.

Tim admittedly stretched the truth about how Promethea was going so far so as to not worry them when it came time for him to share. Complaining about things was always a number one pastime of his, but their line of questioning made him uncomfortable, their tone a little too off. 

They always did tend to treat him with kid gloves — Ember especially — and that only seemed to double down more so after losing his hand. Him being off planet made it painfully obvious. It was like they all expected him to break any second.

Which, sure, he felt exactly like that, but couldn’t they pretend he was fine for one moment? 

He kept the call brief because of that, and he could tell that only made them worry more. When worried, Trent’s innuendos basically became direct and especially explicit, enough that it would cause Moxxi to even blush. 

Patting his cheeks to try and cool his own blush through the silicone mask, Tim only had a few minutes to relax before a ping to his ECHO alerted him to an incoming call. Seeing Moxxi’s familiar icon pop onto the screen made him sigh. She was probably told about his call and wanted to be nosey herself.

“How’s my favorite ex doing?” Moxxi’s voice filtered through after he accepted the call.

“Considering you’ve had all your exes killed at some point, I don’t really know if that’s a compliment or not,” Tim scoffed.

“Not true. Birdman and husband number three are still very much alive. And you’re still a top contender, sugar,” she said matter-of-factly. 

At that, Tim nearly asked why they still weren’t together if that was the case, but he bit his tongue. He had been the one to suggest ending it, after all. She had agreed, though he could tell at the time it had hurt her — she wasn’t the type of woman that liked to stay single for long. As promiscuous as Moxxi made herself out to be, she had a soft heart filled with hopes of finding The One.

It just so happened that it wasn’t him despite their compatibility. He didn’t think he could be anyone’s The One given the fact he struggled to understand who he was as a person most days, let alone be that special someone for Mad Moxxi of all people.

“Yeah, well, back to your original question: this place sucks,” Tim sighed heavily. While he had been holding back his complaining for the others, he didn’t have to with Moxxi. She worried, of course, but she didn’t fret. There was a mutual understanding and respect between them that made them comfortable with one another. 

“Oh?” 

“It’s a lot. Not to mention the people here are rude as hell.”

Apparently seeing her chance, Moxxi pounced. “Anything interesting happen at the meeting?” she asked, her voice coy and oh-so-knowing.

“Oh, hey, speaking of that, um, _fuck you,_ ” Tim hissed.

Moxxi laughed loud and hard enough to accidentally slip a snort. The sound of the ECHO clinking against a counter top let Tim know she had to set it aside to compose herself. “Well, if that’s what you want, I can hop on a fast travel right now, sugar,” she teased through hiccuping breaths.

“You’re the devil. Devil clown from hell. Evil, evil woman.”

“So I take it that it all went well?” 

“You knew. You _knew_ ,” Tim accused.

“I speculated. A contact of mine on Pandora mentioned Rhys used to be a bit of a Jack fanboy before the whole Fall,” she said casually, and Tim imagined she had given a delicate roll of her shoulder so as to seem innocent.

“That was so embarrassing. You’re the worst.”

“I’ll need to see if Zer0 could give me a copy of the security tapes. I wish I had been there to witness it. Rhys turns such a delicious shade of red.”

An image of Rhys staring at him wide eyed, face red and mouth parted in shock entered Tim’s mind. He quickly dismissed it, feeling his annoyance and embarrassment churn uncomfortably in his gut.

“He looked like a friggin’ idiot,” he grumbled. 

“An idiot who you are gainfully employed under, I presume?” 

“And not only that, the guy actually is an idiot!” Tim said and began to pace the hallway connecting the living room and bedroom. 

“Sure, he can be, I suppose—“

“Like, a genuine friggin’ moron! Ugh. The way he rambles actually gets on my nerves. It’s like the guy’s stupid little brain shoots off faster than his mouth can handle.”

“Right,” Moxxi answered, but her voice was clipped, not amused at being cut off.

“He’s just so _stupid!_ And tacky! Like, really really tacky! And not even in the fun way, he’s just got a terrible sense of, uh, well, _everything_ ,” Tim complained — whined, practically — and finally passed the threshold of the bedroom doorway to flop down onto the bed. He starfished out on the mattress and felt his mood sour at how unfairly soft it was. Of _course_ Mr. Hotshot CEO would have a luxurious mattress to go with a luxurious room. 

“Uh huh,” Moxxi’s voice replied, not sounding all that interested.

“Have you _seen_ his moustache, Mox? It’s like a hairy ratch crawled on his stupid friggin’ face and died.”

“Yep.”

“And don’t even get me started on the aquarium. Like, seriously? How cliche can you be? And this is coming from a guy who used to work for a cartoonish villain with a trapdoor in his office!”

“Mhm.”

“Moxxxiii,” Tim groaned and flipped over to his stomach. He held the ECHO in his hand in front of his face and pouted as if she could possibly see it. “Come pick me up. I’d rather go back to the casino.”

“I think you two just need to...work out your tension,” Moxxi said. Tim imagined she did so with a wink.

“Huh?”

“Rhys has been complaining about the same thing, you know. Calling me up and saying you’re too much of a hassle to work with. A little birdy told him you’ve been wagging your tongue about his ‘tastes’. Something about college and peaking.”

Tim gasped and sat up in surprise. He lifted his arm to squint down at the cracked screen of his watch and noted it hadn’t even been an hour since Lorelei’s tour ended.

“Ember was right. You really can't trust the British,” he lamented. 

“Honestly, honey, the way I see things? A little physicality can go a long way, if you catch my meaning.”

“Um. Not really,” Tim said nervously.

“I’m telling you to fuck him,” Moxxi said bluntly. 

“ _Moxxi!”_ Tim shrieked so loudly it made his own ears ring.

“Timothy, you’re the most pent up person I have ever met in my life. Rhys also is for entirely different reasons. He’s already seen you at work—“ Tim choked unpleasantly on his saliva. “—just go with it. What better way to keep the boss happy than with a little stress relief.”

“You’re the worst. The goddamn worst. I hate my life,” Tim groaned and dropped his face down into the fluffy bed sheets.

“If not, don’t antagonize the guy.”

“I’m not antagonizing him,” he replied, his voice muffled.

“You tend to mouth off when uncomfortable, sugar. And not in the pleasant way. Something you’re very, _very_ good at, by the way—“

“Oh my God. _Stop_ it.” 

“Just do your job and try _not_ to piss off the guy who’s going to be clearing your cheques?”

Tim chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep a sarcastic remark at bay. Moxxi had already done so much for him, being on his best behavior was the least he could do. He was an _actor_. This was just another role.

_Timothy Lawrence (age ???), devilishly handsome former body double of the late Hyperion CEO, the perfect employee, not at all whiny._

“Yeah, okay. Shouldn’t be too hard. Just have to shoot some ratches with fancy Atlas tech.” Tim lifted his head to scratch the side of his cheek, his mouth pulling down into a small frown. “Hey, Mox?”

“Yes, Timothy?”

“Thanks. You’ve been real good to me even though I can be such a jackass. Getting out of the casino really has made it easier to breathe, so...thanks. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, sugar,” Moxxi said warmly. 

Tim cleared his throat to try and counter the tender moment, feeling awkward. “Yeah, well, enough about me. Tell me about the renovations.”

And so they talked. 

Moxxi’s voice was soothing, even if she peppered in unnecessary innuendos here and there. Tim lost himself in her words, adding in his own two cents when prompted, and felt himself relax. He ordered some food via _DoorMates_ (paid for by Rhys, which bumped him up a notch in Tim’s book) and laid around gossiping the night away, complete with his legs kicking up behind him.

Eventually, Moxxi did have to leave. She had a casino to run and she couldn’t spend all of her time on Tim, no matter how much he wished she could. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if she secretly resented him for that. He broke up with her barely a week into their relationship but insisted on being glued to her hip, eagerly awaiting any and all attention she could give. If he had the patience, he could probably psychoanalyze himself over his inherent need to keep people at arms length while soaking up any affection given by them, but he wasn’t a very patient man.

The rest of the evening was spent watching shitty Promethean soap operas and stuffing his face full of garlic fries. 

When it reached the acceptable time to fall asleep, he tried his best, but something was off. The bed was too soft and warm. It didn’t feel _right,_ almost like he would sink into the mattress to be swallowed whole. His mind wandered back to his little cot in _Casa de Timothy_ and he felt his heart ache.

After trying to fitfully sleep for nearly half an hour, Tim gave up. He pulled himself up from the bed and gathered up the blanket and some pillows before heading over to the bathroom. 

Ignoring the layout of the room for now, Tim made a beeline for the bathtub after adjusting the lights. One thing he had gotten used to in the casino was the ever streaming neon that seemed to bleed through his eyelids. Thankfully, Rhys was tacky enough to have every room fitted with light dimmers, giving him just enough light to simulate his old hideout.

The tub itself was decently sized and once he crawled inside it he was pleased to note he could stretch his legs out completely. He propped his pillow up and threw the blanket over himself. The porcelain dug uncomfortably into his shoulders and he could already feel his neck developing a crick, but compared to the actual bed he felt a lot more relaxed. 

Tim lazily let his eyes wander the rest of the room, feeling silly in his position. It didn’t hit him that he was unconsciously searching for his affirmations until he caught a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror instead of the usual writings on the wall. The sleepiness in his eyes were blinked away the moment he made eye contact with himself, his lips pressed into a fine, thin line.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at himself for and he wasn’t sure at what point he had gotten up out of the tub, but there he was with his hands white knuckled around the sink just staring directly into his own eyes. He tended to avoid mirrors most days, and judging by the faint echo of a certain maniacal laugh ringing in his head, today should have been one of them.

Tim tore his hand away from the sink to jam them in the pocket of his jacket he hadn’t bothered taking off. Inside he clutched the handful of pens and markers he kept inside and tossed them into the sink. He picked up a thick flat tipped marker from the pile and uncapped it with his teeth, quickly and aggressively scribbling over the mirror until his reflection could no longer be seen.

He took a step back and shuddered a breath.

_You are not Jack._

_You are more than your face._

_It’s not your fault._

_You will have a life here._

Tim stared hard at the last line, his jaw clenching and unclenching at the uncomfortableness of seeing a different string of words than what he was used to. He shrugged off that feeling by underlining the word ‘will’ three times. The squeak of the marker with every stroke set him on edge, but grounding. If not for the noise then he was sure he would have felt too numb to process much of what was happening.

Tossing the maker back into the sink, Tim slowly slipped back into his makeshift bed. He could see the mirror over the rim of the tub and his breath left him easier at the fact he could barely catch a glimpse of himself, the harsh black lines scrawled across the surface covering nearly every inch.

He mouthed the words to himself just as he had done every night in the casino, his heart fluttering whenever he reached the newest addition.

Sleep came soon after. The laughter never left, but that was okay. Tim was good at ignoring it. He’s had plenty of years to practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come bother me on [my tumblr](https://cacophobia.tumblr.com) and remind me to actually write chapters or just talk to me about spongejack handsomepants. either or is fine


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